Fault
by Daydream7
Summary: Re-written. Ronnie has spilled her deepest darkest secret. Can anyone save her now, or will her demons take over, and finally destroy her for good?
1. Chapter 1

**Rewritten and hopefully improved :) Sort of lost my inspiration in the last attempt at this, but I hope this will work out better. **

Her eyes squeeze tightly together, the glass gripped so tightly in her hand that it threatens to shatter. The kitchen is swathed in darkness, her quiet breath the only sound in the caustic silence. It leaves her with nothing else to think about; nothing to chase away or distract from the knowledge of what has taken place.

She raised the tumbler to her lips, her teeth clinking against the cool glass. She knocks back the clear liquid easily, shuddering as it carves a fiery path down her throat. She finds comfort in her old friend, the only thing that is always there in her time of need. The only one thing that she can always depend on to take the sting off. But this time - it's not working. She nurses the glass in one hand, the other clamped down hard on the wood of the kitchen table, and it isn't enough to block everything out.

Images bleed through the blackness into her brain, and no matter how hard she squeezes her eyes together, or how tightly her fist is clenched, nothing will keep them at bay. Darkness clutches at the edges of her frayed soul, dragging her further and further downward. She inhales sharply, leaning forward and releasing her grip on the glass, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. No matter how hard she tries, she can't banish the forbidden thoughts back to the depths of her mind. No, they attack her, again and again, pushing themselves forward, hundreds of images, memories which fight their way to the surface. Memories which she has tried so hard to forget, yet now bite back with vicious clarity.

"Ronnie?"

The quiet voice is unexpected, and causes her to jump, violently. Her head snaps upward, her eyes drawn immediately to the source. She locks eyes with her sister for a moment, icy blue meeting icy blue, two pairs of eyes which are almost identical. She fights to keep her emotions, facial expression under control, though her muscles lock with tension at the sound of Roxy's voice. She breaks the stare, casting her eyes downward, her hair falling like a sheet in front of her face. She remains silent, waiting. Though what for, she's not entirely sure. She reached out instinctively for the glass once more, feeling comforted by the grip of something solid. She listens as Roxy walks slowly into the kitchen, but she doesn't move to look at the pair of eyes which she can feel boring into her head. Her sister stops a couple of feet away from the table, and from the corner of her eye, she notices her fold her arms. Ronnie lifts the glass to her lips, taking another gulp of the bitter liquid, retaining her silence. She won't be the first one to speak. She notices Roxy shuffle from one foot to the other, and she can tell that the silence daunts her little sister.

"It's four in the morning" the words are stated flatly, with only a hint of uncertainty lacing Roxy's words.

Ronnie sets the glass down on the table, still looking down determinedly at the wood. "Yeah" she murmurs, raising her eyebrows in recognition.

She receives a sigh in response. "What are you doing, Ronnie?" she shakes her head slowly, staring at the woman before her. Ronnie's eyes snap upward to meet hers, fiery with defiance.

"Drinking" she says simply, tauntingly, her eyes searching her little sister's, daring her to respond.

She sees the flicker of anger in Roxy's eyes, and her sister opens her mouth, but quickly shuts it again, turning her head away, almost as if she cannot bear to look.

Ronnie's heart plummets through her stomach, and tears brim in her eyes involuntarily. She quickly turns her face away, feeling bile rise in her throat. It's the one look of disgust that confirms it all, confirms her fears that she should never have spoken out in the first place. There had been a part of her that had hoped, now he was gone, it wouldn't matter. She could speak the truth, and maybe, just maybe, she would be believed.

She stands up suddenly, the chair screeching against the floor, and toppling backwards, clattering loudly. Her sister flinches, and jumps back, but she doesn't wait for anything else. She makes her way toward the door, choking back the tears which are building. She freezes when she feels a strong grip on her elbow. She stops, looking down at the hand, and then up at Roxy, blinking at her sister with tear filled eyes, startled by the contact.

"Where are you going?!" Roxy's voice is stern, anger lacing the words, but there is also a little hint of fear. "Don't think you can just walk out of here, Ronnie!" she stares fiercely into her sister's eyes, feeling waves of anger roll over her.

There is silence for a moment, and everything goes completely still.

Then Ronnie wrenches her arm free, and grits her teeth, her own eyes blazing. She towers above her sister for a moment, and Roxy visibly shrinks backward, taken aback by her elder sister's wrath. She looks into Roxy's gaze, a look containing so much hurt and anger. She turns on her heel, and walks quickly from the kitchen.

Roxy pauses for a split second, reeling, before taking after her quickly. Ronnie marches silently to the top of the stairs, the hall of the Vic almost completely bathed in blackness.

"Ronnie" she hisses. "We're not done yet!" she insists.

Ronnie pauses at the top of the stairs, looking back to meet her sister's eyes for one last time. Her eyes are still shining with tears, glassy in the dark, but her gaze is sharp and cold, vacant eyes staring straight through the woman that used to be her little sister. Now, for all the warmth in the gaze, they could be strangers.

"Yes" she whispers into the blackness, her voice bleak and emotionless. Defeated. "We are"


	2. Chapter 2

The cold air hits her full in the face as she steps out of the pub and she gasps, her eyes still burning with hot tears, trying to draw enough oxygen into her lungs. Her hands are shaking as she walks away, out onto the pavement. The tears blur her vision, and she lifts a hand to her face, wiping them away viciously. What use was it cry now? She staggers across the road, moving quickly and almost stumbling in her haste, stopping when she reaches the railings which line the square gardens, gripping onto them for support. She looks up at the tall red building, intimidating and majestic as it towers above the rest of the houses. She looks to the point where Bradley Branning had fallen from the roof just a few hours earlier, and a shiver coils itself at the base of her spine.

She forces her eyes away, instead looking to the huge poster of her father, now desecrated with scarlet paint. She feels a sliver of satisfaction at what she's done, but it's quickly crushed as she thinks how it's the same colour as Bradley's blood. The blood that still stains the concrete just a few feet from her. His body may be gone, but the evidence of what happened to him is still there - the proof of another life which has been destroyed as a result of her father's actions. A guttural sob breaks forth from her lips, and she raises her hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound, but nothing will stop the tears which roll silently down her cheeks.

Everything, everything she's ever had - it's all gone. Everything has been ripped away from her. The secret which she had kept buried so deeply inside her for so long was finally out. She had thought; hoped in a moment of madness that it would make things better. Now he was gone, she could finally speak the truth and be free.

Yet she thinks of the hateful, spiteful look in her sister's eyes, and it confirms every fear she's ever nursed over the long and drawn out years. Roxy's earlier words ring in her ears, echoing through her head.

_Sick._

_Liar. _

She pulls in another deep breath, wrapping her arms round her torso tightly, as if in a desperate attempt to hold the shattered pieces of herself together. She should never have told her. She should never have infected someone else with her secret, because now it wasn't only hurting her. When it was locked inside her, it was hidden away, and the only one it could hurt was herself. Now it was out - the damage which could be done was endless. Roxy didn't believe her. Even thinking the words caused her to wince, her stomach turning. Her own sister thought she was lying.

_It's sick. You're sick. _

She feels bile rise in her throat, and she swallows hard, her eyes fluttering close.

An icy wind whips around her, provoking an involuntary shiver, but for the most part she remains unfazed by the weather. She looks down at her bare arms, her skin ghostly pale. She looks back up toward the Queen Vic for a moment, considering, her eyes dark and sorrowful. Then she turns away, more tear drops falling from her eyes. She doesn't want to go back into the household where the truth lingers in ever crevice like poison, infecting the very air which she breathes. Even out in the square, in the open night, her airway constricts with the knowledge of what her sister knows. What she knows and is choosing not to believe.

The pain pierces her more sharply than she would ever have dared to believe. She turns her back on the tall building, on the spot where Bradley fell, on the place where she told Roxy the truth. She shudders, tears still rolling quietly down her cheeks. She moves slowly now, further into the square. There is only silence, save for her quiet footsteps, and the distant sound of moving cars. All is dark and quiet, the residents of Walford still sleeping peacefully, still protected from the shroud of grief which they will awake to. For a moment, she feels a stab of envy. There is nowhere that she can find peace, not even in her sleep. Every second of her day is spent in crushing agony, her nights even worse.

In the day, she has things to occupy her mind, small distractions which keep her busy, and away from the gut-wrenching memories. But the nights, the nights provide her with no such luxury. She is left with only the dark, and the thoughts which terrorise her dreams. The secret of what Archie has done to her, has been kept under lock and key for so long. So long, in fact, buried so deep, there were times where she almost forgot. But it didn't disappear. It had never done so. No, it had festered over the years, slowly eating away at her insides, a black hole of horror that sucked another little piece of her soul into it with every day that passed.

She stumbles forward another couple of steps, wiping her cheeks surreptitiously, collapsing with glorious indignity onto the small wooden bench. She sucks in a sharp breath at another particularly cold stab of wind, and hugs her arms to her body more securely, trying to stifle the trembling in her hands. She is slowly turning into a wreck, and she struggles to conjure up the strength required to pull herself back together. Her fixed mask has slipped, and there is a vulnerability about her that she's never felt before. Only this time, she doesn't care. What is the use in trying to protect an already shattered heart?

Suddenly, a quiet pair of footsteps approaching her causes her to start. She wiped her eyes quickly, feeling a presence close by. She looks upward through tear-spiked lashes, blinking toward the source of disruption. Her eyes lock with a pair of dark eyes almost as dark and helpless as her own, and she feels her heart quicken and constrict in equal measure. She shakes her head slightly.

"Jack" she breathes.


	3. Chapter 3

He barely responds to his name, eyes glassy in the lowlight, looking at her, staring at her, but never really seeing her. He stands perfectly still, his stance wary and closed off, hands buried deep in the pockets of his long coat. He holds her gaze, a slight haze of confusion passing over his face, before it is replaced once more with the same blank stare.

Ronnie looks away for a moment, self-consciously wiping her eyes, her breath cautious and shallow, trying to mask her upset. She turns her head marginally toward him again, only to see that he has not moved from his position. She drags her eyes upward, reluctant to meet his gaze, her heart pounding mercilessly in her chest, the adrenaline still running through her veins from the shock of receiving such unexpected company. She hesitates, her eyes flickering almost fearfully over his face, disconcerted by his lack of reaction. "Jack?" she starts again, her voice hushed as her eyes sweeps over his face.

This time, the sound of her voice seems to break through the haze surrounding him, and he shifts his feet, before seemingly making a decision, he takes a step forward before sliding down into the seat beside her. The movement is swift and unexpected, his arm brushes against hers, and for a moment she flinches, her thoughts still swirling with thoughts of Archie. Almost like now she's spoken the words aloud, the stopper has come off the bottle and there's nothing in place to stop the flow of evil. She swallows with difficulty, shifting away from him, running her hands along the knees of her trousers. Her eyes dart toward him, and she chews her bottom lip nervously, waiting for any other sort of response from him.

"What are you doing out here?" His voice is robotic.

She widens her eyes slightly before shaking her head. She opens her mouth, but her throat dries up and she only closes it's wordlessly once more. What is there to say? She turns her head away from him, though his eyes are still firmly on the ground. She lifts her hand to her face, wiping at the tears which have dried on her cheeks, the cold wind sobering her considerably. Her silence grabs his attention. With a marginal shake of the head, he drags his eyes upward, turning to look at her. He grazes his eyes over her form, at the way she sits, almost completely turned away, her golden hair like a curtain, shielding her face and her arms which are wrapped round herself protectively, like she's trying to hold herself together.

"Ronnie?" he presses, tilting his head to the side, struggling to conjure up the appropriate level of concern, his voice still lacking emotion. It's strange to think that only a few hours ago, the only thing he could think about was protecting this woman. Make sure that her name was cleared, ensure that she stayed out of the clutches of the law; even if she had done it, if she had murdered her father. Now, all he can hear is the thud of Bradley's body against the concrete, the dead weight of his as Jack cradled him in his lap, strawberry jam blood spattered everywhere, the bloodcurdling screams Stacey Slater ringing through the night, Bradley's eyes endless black abysses of … His throat constricts painfully, and he fights to stay in the moment, almost crippled by the wave of guilt which consumes him, feeling a short stab of rage at himself, at her, at life.

He focuses on the sight of her long blonde hair, cascading gracefully down her back as she remains facing resolutely away from him. Despite his own muddled confusion of a brain, he knows there is something wrong, something very wrong.

Slowly, slowly, she turns to face him, the blood beating in her ears, her breathing short and erratic. Her tears have dried but the evidence of her upset is still clear to see. She listens to the silence of the square, her heart picking up speed with every moment which drags by.

She looks to the ground, terrified to meet his gaze again. She clutches at the extra material in her trousers, her actions agitated, anxious.

"Ron" he speaks more softly this time, his brow furrowing. He reaches across, placing his large hand over her clenched fist, flinching slightly when he feels how cold she is.

She makes no movement, at first. She closes her eyes tightly, allowing him to unwrap her white knuckles from their unyielding position, and take a proper hold of her hand. The small action of kindness causes the lump in her throat to grow, and she battles to stop a fresh shower of tears from leaking out of her closed eyelids. Everything good she's ever had in her life, she's destroyed. Joel, Danielle, Roxy - and now Jack.

The realisation to herself almost brings on a convulsing round of sobs, and she's not entirely sure where she summons the strength to hold herself together for that little bit longer. Her eyes snap open and she draws in a shaky breath. For a moment, she hesitates, savouring the feel of his warm skin against hers for just that tiniest second longer, allowing herself once small selfish moment of escape. But she knows that she will only end up hurting him. He has tried to help her, and as a result, his nephew was killed. She needs to leave before she does anymore damage, before he manages to find his way in. Because then, there will be no stopping it. He'll find out, and then he'll reject her too.

Broken, damaged…ruined.

She has listened to her father call her those things countless times, but never before has she believed them so fully. She is bad, bad news to anyone who has the misfortune of crossing her path. His eyes burn into the side of her head, his gaze intense and deep. She feels her stomach squeeze with nerves, a small part of her convinced that if he looks into her eyes, if she looks at him, he'll be able to see it. That just by looking at her - he'll know.

It's that fear that propels her to wrench her hand free from his grasp, pulling her hand backward and curling it into her chest, still refusing to meet his eye, instead staring resolutely at the ground.

"Ronnie?" his voice is husky and concerned, but it's weary. She can hear the defeat in the tiny sigh after he speaks, the way his words are just almost lined with tears. "What's wrong?" he whispers, the words quiet in the hushed dark night, as he reaches out his hand once more, taking gentle hold of her cheek, softly caressing the golden curtain of hair which hides her from view. She shudders pleasurably under his touch, the warmth of his skin a shock to her system, but allows him to turn her head toward him, even though her eyes remain closed. "Ron" he presses her, brow furrowing with confusion.

Reluctantly, and painfully slow, her eyes crack open, brimming with crystal tears. She meets his eyes apprehensively, teeth gnawing on the cushion of her bottom lip, his form blurred through the tears.

He shuffles closer to her, reaching up to take her face in both of his hands, cradling it gently, as the tears drip down her pale cheeks. He wipes one away with the pad of his thumb, his eyes flickering over it blankly for a moment, before he returns to her eyes, shining with moisture, clearer, and yet somehow darker than he's ever seen them before.

"Tell me, Ron" he murmurs, his own voice almost cracking.

She shakes her head, lips pressing tightly together, knowing that she can't ever do the one thing he's asking of her. But she doesn't have the strength to resist. She knows that she won't be able to.

"Please, Ron" he repeats, eyes sweeping over her face once more.

"I - can't" she chokes out, her throat closing up, yet more tears spilling over. She musters every atom of strength which she has left, and pushes his hands from her face. She shakes her head, moving away from him, the reality of her situation hitting her in full force, causing a sob to be ripped from her throat. "I can't" she repeats in a whisper, sliding backward on the bench, staring at him with wide, haunted, fearful eyes.

"Ronnie I-" the rest of the sentence dies in his throat as his mouth dries, and he can't think of anything else to say. He knows there is something wrong, he can feel it, he can see it.

She drags herself to her feet clumsily, still backing away from him, shaking her head.

"Ron!" he makes a quick gesture, moving to stop her and it's all she needs as an excuse.

The fear swells up and swallows her whole, the pain drowning her. So she does what she always does. She runs.


	4. Chapter 4

She stumbles over her own feet, bolting as far away from him as she can, as fast as she can. The tears trickle pathetically down her face, but she doesn't bother pausing to wipe them away. Her shoes slap against the concrete, echoing in the night.

Jack freezes for a moment, watching as she suddenly turns and flees, sprinting away from him. His reaction time is slower than usual, but it's still only a matter of seconds before he takes off in pursuit. "Ron!" he bellows, watching as she almost bashes into the railings in her haste. His voice only seems to make her move faster. He's not sure exactly what ignites the powerful instinct inside him to follow her. Maybe because he's already lost far too much in just a few short hours. Maybe it's the rage that burns inside him, the need for answers from her. Whatever the reason, he can't bear the pain it causes him to watch her turn away. He lengthens his strides, forcing his legs to move, a little surprised by just how quickly she is gaining ground. Still, she runs every day. Doesn't he always watch her from the crack in his curtains as she runs past, iPod plugged in, her long hair swishing from side to side as she blocks out the world? Still, she may be fast, but he's faster, his reactions sharper, his police days still very much instilled in him. And though he may be swaddled in the blanket of grief which surrounds him, he isn't under the influence of alcohol.

His expensive shoes click on the pavement as he runs toward her, determined not to let her get away. He catches up with her, reaching out with out-stretched fingers and roughly catching hold of her upper-arm. He holds on tightly, spinning her toward him rapidly, feeling hurt and anger seep through every pore in his body. His breathing is short and fast, his eyes blazing.

Her hair whips behind her, and she inhales sharply in shock as she feels his warm skin connect with her own. He forces her to face him, holding on tightly so she can't struggle free. She feels her entire body go limp, her resolve crumbling under his stern gaze. His eyes are stark, looking directly into hers, questioning her silently.

"Let me go" she whimpers, unsuccessfully trying to escape his grip. She feels her heart beating wildly in her chest, her brain freezing as he continues to scrutinise her. He wants answers, but it's answers that she can't possibly give.

How can she be strong for him now, when she's crumbling herself? He's falling apart, barely holding on - she won't be any use to him. She's already too close to the edge. The weight of trying to prop someone else up would surely cause them both to plummet. It's what they always do. It's always the wrong time. Whenever they've gotten together in the past, they've both been dealing with personal problems. But, time and time again, she's drawn back to this man. The rules don't seem to apply with him, the stuff that she enforces around everyone else. He always fights his way in. And it terrifies her. Only this time, this time she _knows_ that she can't let him in, she has to stop it at all costs. She has to protect him from this truth, this awful truth that is far worse than anything they've ever experienced. She can't tell him. She won't.

Her mind is whirring with all these thoughts at once, images and colours flashing through her brain at lightning speed, her heart beating in her mouth. Suddenly he pulls her toward him, till she collides with his chest. The action is sharp and brusque. She looks up at him, feeling a slight flutter of fear at the fury in his eyes. She can feel his racing heart through his shirt, the heat of his body making her tingle, despite the desperate situation. She tries to pull away again, but he keeps a tight grip, pressing her to him. He holds her wrist firmly with one hand, before slowly bringing his other to the side of her face. For a moment she flinches away, blinking furiously, but he simply sweeps her hair back, away from her face, his expression melting away to one of defeatism and sadness. He brushes his fingers along the side of her face, fingertips dancing along the length of her cheekbone.

She freezes under this change in his touch and persona, gulping nervously.

"You always run from me" he whispers, still holding her close. "Why do you always do that? You always run" he muses.

She blinks at him, unsure as to whether or not he's expecting her to respond. But he continues in the next second, leaning closer till his breath is hot on her cheek.

"You always leave when I need you" he mutters, his dark eyes sweeping hers, unable to read the expression in them. "I need you, Ron" he murmurs, his voice growing thick.

She opens her mouth, her struggles to break free forgotten. Tears brim in her eyes at the helplessness in his voice, his obvious desperation. He's breaking down. She knows that she should pull away, that she can't possibly be what he needs right now. He's grieving, his nephew dead only a few hours. And she knows that there aren't enough pieces of her left to go around. So why doesn't she stop right now, and do what's best for him, what's best for her?

She stiffens in his arms, trying to pull away once more. He holds tighter still. "Please, Ron" he murmurs, leaning closer still. "Don't leave me"

"Jack" her voice is strangled with tears, common sense battling desire. His touch and voice drive her senses wild, making it almost impossible to think clearly. "Don't…" she shakes her head, tone pleading. She wishes that he would drop it, that he would just let her go. Because she can't keep it up much longer. The pain in his voice causes her heart to break, the guilt to swell in the pit of her stomach. She wants so much just for to break down in his arms, to let him comfort her, let herself comfort him.

Jack reaches up, running a hand through her hair. "Ronnie" his voice is low and urgent as he breathes into her ear, desperation lacing in words.

Her eyes flutter close in resignation, the agony in his voice spearing her heart. She allows herself to go limp in his arms, melting into his hold. Tears brim underneath her closed eyelids, but she clings tightly to him, allowing him to wrap his arms round her fully as his mouth closes in on hers.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews. **

She allows her eyes to flicker open slowly, her brain clouded with bewilderment as she takes in the unfamiliar surroundings. The sheets are cool against her exposed skin, the room bathed in a grey glow of the pre-dawn light. She lies still for a moment, trying to figure out where she was, how she got there. She turns her head to the side, stomach jolting as her eyes fall on bare back of Jack, who sprawls away from her, arms and legs eagle spread on the mattress. She sits up with a start, regretting it instantly as a wave of dizziness rolls over her. Her mouth feels dry and bitter, her head already beginning to thump with the beginnings of a headache. Unfurling her legs, she draws the sheets tighter round her naked body, screwing her eyes shut as she tries to block out the spinning room.

Then, slowly, piece by piece, the events of the previous evening begin to float back to her, in bits and parts, the memories as fragmented as the pieces of her heart. She draws her knees up to her chest suddenly, head dropping onto her knees as she remembers what has happened, what she's done. Abruptly, she wishes that she hadn't woken up.

She stays in the same position for several moments, her heart beating loudly in her chest. She swallows, wincing at the metallic taste in her mouth, before pulling her head up slowly, looking toward him again.

How the hell had she let this happen? She shakes her head sadly, deftly freeing her legs from the sheets as she stands up, and begins silently casting her eyes around the room, searching for her clothes. She retrieves her bra and knickers from their discarded position on the floor, pulling them on as quickly as possibly, before pausing to look round in confusion, eyes searching for the rest of her garments. She stands up, making toward the door, following the trail of the destruction which they had blazed in their grief-induced stupor the night before, eyebrows arching skyward as she takes in the full chaos they have caused. But she only gets as far as the foot of the bed before her stomach lurches unpleasantly, and she claps both hands to her mouth. She runs toward the bathroom which leads off to the side of his room, slamming the door behind her, silence forgotten in her haste as she leans over the bowel and begins retch violently.

It's several minutes later before she manages to get shakily to her feet, her body almost rid of toxins, flushing the loo before washing her hands. Reluctantly, she allows herself to meet the gaze of her reflection, feeling a stab of revulsion at what she sees. Her hair is unkempt, her skin deathly pale, her eyelids puffy. But it is nothing compared to the hollow look in her eye, the depth of the darkness which harbours all the terrible secrets she's been so determined to keep. She shudders, leaning forward and splashing cold water in her face, before setting about trying to freshen herself up.

She exits the bathroom several moments later, her breath mint-fresh, all traces of make-up firmly washed away. She wraps her arms round her bare stomach, almost laughing at her pathetic attempt to make herself look presentable, when she wears only a couple of pieces of flimsy underwear. Stepping back into his room hesitantly, she feels her heart pick up pace, desperately hoping for a moment that he's still asleep, that she can escape undisturbed. Her face falls a little as she sees the now empty bed, sheets strewn messily over the mattress. Too late, she thinks, heart sinking.

She breaths in deeply, looking around hopefully for her clothes, but there is still no sign of them. Groaning internally, she walks carefully over to his dresser. It's strange how much she feels like a stranger in this room now. She feels a jolt when she thinks of how this place used to be her home. They had lived here, and she had been happy. She pushes the thoughts aside, delving into the drawer, and pulling out one of his shirts, slipping her arms through the long sleeves, relishing the way the material slides over her skin. She shakes her thoughts free. It was a different time back then, she tells herself, folding her arms across her chest before making her way softly out of the room.

She pads slowly into the living room, sucking a breath in as her eyes skirt around the living room, searching for him. She raises one eyebrow as she notices her trousers in a heap at the entrance to the door. She bends over, scooping them up.

"Mm, suits you, that does"

His voice makes her bolt upright, eyes wide as she clutches the waist band to her trousers. He lounges against the doorway to his kitchen, his arms crossed as he looks at her, a small smirk on his lips, despite the sadness in his eyes.

Despite herself, she blushes, tugging on the bottom of his shirt. "I hope you don't mind" she begins awkwardly, unsure as to how to continue. This isn't like all the other times they've fooled around. Back when they were just starting out, there were many mornings like this. But this is different. She doesn't feel like that same woman anymore. She doesn't have the strength to keep on playing the games. She just always ends up hurt. She looks down, not wanting to meet his eyes.

Jack stares at her, his eyes roaming over her, admiring her beauty. But there is something off about her, something different. He contemplates her for a second, pursing his lips, feeling a rush of guilt at pushing her the night before. She had tried to run away, but he hadn't let her. He had needed her, and he knew, he knew that she wouldn't say no. The truth was, he knew exactly what to say to manipulate her weaknesses. The thought of it brings a wave of shame cascading down over him, igniting a desire to put things right.

"Ron?" he began, tilting his head to the side, striding over to her in his vest top and boxers. "What's wrong?"

He reaches out his hand for her, but she shrinks away. "Stop" she commands, her voice weighted with authority, but laced with sadness.

He rocks back on his heels, sighing as she still refused to meet his eyes. There's an air of vulnerability about her, a kind of resignation that he's never seen her wear before.

She runs her tongue over her teeth nervously, attempting to reign in some of her thoughts. She hesitates, feeling suddenly very over-exposed in just Jack's shirt.

"I - this was a mistake" she blurts out "We shouldn't ever have - Bradley's just…you're not thinking straight" she finishes. "_I'm _not thinking straight" she repeats more quietly, almost to herself.

"Ron - don't" he urges, restraining himself from reaching out and wrapping her up in his arms.

"Don't?" she repeats, looking upwards at him through charcoal lashes. "Don't what, Jack? Do what I should have done last night? It was a mistake, you know it was"

He shakes his head. "I shouldn't have…you were drunk and I -" he swallows.

"You just wanted to forget" she murmurs quietly, eyes flickering toward the floor.

Jack's eyes widen with surprise and he blinks, taken aback. "Yeah" he begins uncertainly before clearing his throat.

She turns away, sighing, lifting her hand to her forehead. "I have to go" she shakes her head, turning around and snatching up her top from the back of the sofa. She turns away quickly, making her way back into his room, and shutting the door sharply in his crestfallen face.

Almost a full fifteen minutes later, Jack sits at the table in the kitchen, nursing a cup of readily cooling and as yet untouched coffee. He sits in silence as the grey dawn creeps it's way into his flat, his eyes trained on the door to his bedroom. Waiting for her to come out and face him.

On cue, the door to his room creaks open, and she emerges now fully clothed and looking a little more presentable. She appears to falter when she sees him once more, her heart leaping erratically in her chest, but she quickly rearranges her features, looking downward. She pauses, before inhaling sharply, making straight for the door.

He gets to his feet quickly, taking three long strides over to the door, catching her wrist as she reaches out toward the handle. "Ron" he murmurs her name with a gentle pleading note to his voice. His eyes graze over her face, for a moment completely blown away by her beauty. He can't help but feel frustrated. Now, as she looks stubbornly at the floor, determined to get away from him, it breaks his heart to see her so afraid and fragile. Why does she always do this, why does she always shut him out?

"Don't go, Ronnie" he says, still holding onto her delicate wrist.

She remains frozen in her position, the feel of Jack's warm skin against her own shooting a tingling sensation all through her body. His large hand remains curled round her small wrist. "I have to" she croaks out eventually, her voice uneven to her own ears.

"Why?" he explodes suddenly, his voice raising several octaves. A wave of fresh frustration flows over him, and he resists the sudden urge to shake her.

She flinches slightly at his outburst, but remains staring downward, terrified to meet his eyes. Summoning every ounce of strength left in her body, she inhales shakily before continuing. "Because if I stay, you'll end up hating me. You need to be on your own. To grieve and to be with your family. Us - it's alright for one night. But when it comes to anything else, the other stuff…when has that ever worked, eh? We're not good for each other, Jack. I'm not good for you" she swallows with difficulty.

There is a brief silence in the seconds which follow her words. Jack stares at her, nonplussed, astonished as to how she can be so blind. He reaches out toward her slowly, cupping her face gently as he forces her to look toward him.

She doesn't push him away, but neither does she respond as he turns her to face him. She keeps her eyes firmly facing downward, still determined that she won't give him eye-contact. Hoping, that maybe if she doesn't, he won't notice the crystal tears which have formed in the corners of her eyes.

"That's not true. You're everything that I need" he whispers softly, hoping against hope that his words will be absorbed, that they'll dance across the icy exterior and seep their way through the cracks which are beginning to show.

Her airway constricts, so much so that it's suddenly hard to breathe. It's so tempting to just fall into his arms, to break down right there and then and let him look after her. But how can he do that, how can he possibly do that when he must be falling apart himself?

"Ron - I love you. I want to be with you, I - we just have to be honest with one another. I need you" he continues, his words still whispered.

She shuts her eyes, squeezing them together as a solitary tear streaks it's way down her cheek. Honest with one another. She almost laughs at the thought. Since when have the ever been honest with one another? About anything? When he wasn't cheating on her, she was shutting him out, when he was trying to move on, she was proclaiming her love. Back and forth, to and fro, that's how they'd been for these past few years. And how can she ever be with him now? Knowing why Bradley died, knowing what had happened to Stacey, and never being able to tell him?

She couldn't do it. She couldn't.

She jerks away from him, stepping backward. "I'm sorry" she chokes out, before wrenching the door open and making her escape, running into the square as she ignores his frantic calling after her.

It's still early, no-one yet around to see her dashing away from him. She wipes her eyes as she runs back toward the Vic, the thought of re-entering the large red building dragging her even further downward. She slows as she reaches the railings across the road, her eyes drawn toward the spot where Bradley had fallen. She feels her breath becoming short and erratic, unable to tear her eyes away from the spot where he had lain, bleeding, dead, just hours before. The dull thud echoes through her head, the chilling screams of Stacey ringing in her ears. So much heartache, so much trauma. And it had all been caused by _him. _

She feels hatred sear through her veins, but with it comes another round of crippling guilt. She stares at the spot, transfixed, her eyes dark and haunted.

"I'm sorry" she whispers into the grey morning, the words empty and hollow, filled with remorse.


	6. Chapter 6

**It's almost midnight, and I can't sleep because I feel too ill. So, in advance, I apologise for any awfulness of this chapter. Warning - there is a little bit of swearing in this one. But it's only a little bit ;) **

She reaches the top of the stairs, a low sigh escaping her throat as her eyes skirt round the deserted top hall. It's still way too early for anyone to be up. She tries to feel relieved, but can't even conjure up the strength for that. Instead, she walks nimbly down the hall, moving quickly and silently. The floorboards creak as she reaches the kitchen and she winces, pausing. There is no response, so she continues, opening the door to the kitchen, and then freezing at the sight which greets her.

She stops dead in her tracks, as she sees Roxy sitting at the kitchen table, looking right at her, almost as if she had been awaiting her return. She stops, looking blankly at her sister's face, for once unable to read the expression in Roxy's eyes, and it's something which scares her. She's not in control anymore. Roxy holds all the cards, she knows everything. Ronnie gulps, moving her hand up to her face, smoothing her hair out of the way, feeling Roxy's eyes bore right into her. She ignores this, walking slowly into the kitchen, neither acknowledging or greeting the woman before her, determined not to let her discomfort show.

Carefully, she makes her way over to the sink, reaching absent-mindedly for a glass of water as she turns her back on her sister. She takes a slow, measured sip of water, before setting the glass back on the draining board. She turns slowly, pressing her back against the worktop as she leans against it.

There is silence for a few moments, before, as Ronnie had predicted, Roxy finally breaks her silence, never one for patience.

"That's it?" she asks, her voice sharp and irritated.

Ronnie turns her head toward the source of the noise slowly. She narrows her eyes slightly, still not speaking.

Roxy stands up, folding her arms across her dressing gown, glaring at her elder sister. "Well? Aren't you going to say something?" she prompts coldly, looking toward Ronnie with contempt in her eyes.

Ronnie tilts her head to the side, drawing her arms tightly around her waist. She closes her eyes momentarily, feeling her heart sink at Roxy's spiteful tone. Then she stands up fully, running her tongue along the top row of her teeth, feeling a faint shimmer of rage flow through her. She looks toward Roxy, meeting her gaze. "No" she murmurs.

Roxy's eyes go wide with disbelief and confusion. "No? What do you mean - no?"

Ronnie shakes her head, starting to walk out of the kitchen again, even though her limbs feel like lead.

Roxy steps in front of her, blocking her path. She may be almost a full head shorter than her big sister, but Roxy draws herself up to full height, staring defiantly at the weary woman before him. "What do you mean 'no', Ronnie?" she asks again, gritting her teeth.

Ronnie closes her eyes temporarily, feeling her chest tighten. She looks toward her sister again reluctantly, feeling a wave of nausea pass over her. "I mean 'No'. No, Roxy. No, I'm not going to say anything, anymore. Now get out of my way" she says simply.

She swallows back the irritated groan which builds in her throat as Roxy thrusts her arm out, preventing her from passing. "You know what, Ronnie, I cannot _believe_ you!" she hisses in a venomous whisper. "After everything you said last night, you think you can just pretend that it didn't happen? That we can just go back to normal, pretend you didn't say all that stuff?"

Ronnie bites down on her lower lip, feeling herself begin to crumble. Her hands tremble as she whispers back furiously, conscious of the early hour, "That _stuff?" _she asks incredulously. "What about you, eh Rox? You thought I'd killed him!" she retaliates, hitting back with the best that she had.

"Yeah, well, after what you said last night, I would be bloody surprised if you _had! _You can't just go around saying stuff like that, Ronnie, I won't have it. I know you and dad, you had your problems, but he would _never_-"

Ronnie pushes past her sister, cutting her off in the process. "Oh, just fuck off Roxanne! You want to believe that -" she turns around, leaning in closely to her sister's face, "then you go ahead" She spreads her arms out wide, shaking her head. "I don't care anymore" she utters the last words in a hushed tone, stepping backward and allowing her hands to fall limply by her sides.

There is a hushed silence, both sisters staring daggers at each other, their confrontation containing an animosity that neither have experienced before. As Ronnie looks into Roxy's hate filled eyes, filled with disgust and venom, all of which is directed at _her, _she feels something snap inside her. She clenches her hands into fists, the quiet sound of both sister's breath the only thing to be heard in the silent kitchen. There was no coming back from this. Not ever.

Turning on her heel, Ronnie strode from the kitchen, marching her way into their bedroom, and begins to throw her things together haphazardly. She barely pays attention to the presence of Roxy joining her, standing in the doorway.

"What're you doing?" the younger asks, her voice still cold and unforgiving, but laced with uncertainty.

Ronnie continues with throwing her possessions in a bag, not answering immediately. She is still in her own little world, a haze had descended over her brain, and it took several seconds for any information to actually seep through. "I'm packing" she says robotically.

"I can see that" Roxy murmurs coolly.

"I'll be gone by the time Aunty Peggy gets up. You can tell her whatever you want. But I'm not staying"

Roxy finto a silence, not answering her sister, only walking over to the cot where Amy lay, and staring down at the sleeping infant. Ronnie continues with her task, studiously ignoring Roxy as she walks round the room, gathering her things together. She refuses to look over as Amy begins to stir, and as Roxy lifts her up.

Eventually, after what could have only have been minutes but had felt like a lifetime, Ronnie hoists the bag of measly clothes and possessions over her shoulder. She straightens up, looking over at her sister blankly. Roxy turns reluctantly to face her, rocking Amy slowly.

"Where will you go?" she asks grudgingly.

Ronnie shrugs. "Say bye to Aunty Peg for me" she mutters, turning around.

"Wait - Ron" Roxy's voice is quiet, and almost desperate. Ronnie freezes, but doesn't turn around.

Roxy swallows, patting Amy on the back. "If you just - just say sorry" she stammers over her words. "Just say your sorry, just say it's not true, and we can forget all about it"

Ronnie opens her mouth wordlessly, tears springing to her eyes. Roxy really doesn't believe her. The realisation cuts straight to her core, crippling her. She bites back the tears and looks downward, shaking her head slowly in disbelief, before walking out the door without another word.

**Hey, just want to thank everyone for the great reviews. This won't run for much longer, another few chapters at most, but I can promise it will start to take more shape now. Anyway - thanks xD**

**xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I had a few exams and have been swamped with revision, but on the plus side they're all finished now :D Thanks for the reviews, hope people are still interested.**

The air stings her cheeks as she enters out once more onto the square, this time her back heavy with her possessions, mind weighted with a new set of worries. She draws in a deep shuddering breath, blinking in shock at the latest confrontation with her sister. She crosses her arms, self-consciously tugging at the extra material around her elbows, now utterly unsure of herself and the world around her. Roxy really thought she was lying. She thought she was sick, dirty, just like he had done. She had even asked her to say _sorry. _Sorry! Ronnie scoffs to herself, feeling hot angry tears prick in the corner of her eyes.

She had been so stupid. So, so stupid. Whatever had possessed her to tell her sister the truth? Why had she done it, why had she opened her mouth? In some desperate, selfish attempt to prove her sister wrong, to make her see what Archie was really like? What had been the point, after all? Archie was gone, he was dead. He couldn't hurt them anymore.

She walks shakily away from the pub, deliberately averting her eyes from the scene of Bradley's death. She looks past it, biting down on her lip as she tries to blot out the memories of the night before. Because it wasn't true. The lie that she had been feeding herself, that she was finally free. She would never be free. He was still hurting people, even now almost two months after his death. He was still here, in her memory, infecting her, controlling her. It had been his actions, his spiteful, evil actions that had ultimately lead to Bradley falling from the roof.

She wanders on in a daze, making her way blindly toward the direction of Beale's café, moving without much purpose.

"Ronnie!"

Her entire body freezes at the sound of her name cutting through the crisp morning air. She stops, turning around slowly to be greeted with the sight of Jack running toward her. It was almost as if he had been waiting on her. She meets his gaze, fighting to keep her face blank. She bites back the urge to groan in disappointment, despite the relief his presence brings her. He makes her feel like she has something to hold onto, that there is some meaning to her life. He's her last tenuous link to sanity.

The small burst of relief is short-lived as he slows his pace, stopping just a couple of feet from her, his eyes confused as he searches her face. He allows is eyes to roam over, taking in her appearance, her bag which is bulging with clothes.

"Ronnie?" he repeats, stepping closer.

She lets out a small muted sigh, her breath hitching in her throat as she presses back the tears. "Hi" she mutters reluctantly, meeting his gaze before her eyes dart back to the ground. She draws in a deep breath before posing her mouth in an impatient pout "What do you want, Jack?"

He pauses, letting out an exasperated sigh. "You, Ron! I already told you, I want _you"_ he reaches out, snatching hold of her wrist and trying to pull her toward him gently, desperate for some answers at what's been happening. She looks so fragile, unsure and scared, it ignites the urge to just pull her close and protect her, shield her from hurt and harm, yet at the same time she looks so breath-taking, so beautiful it makes his heart race with desire.

She pulls away immediately, stepping backwards away from him. "No, Jack, I told you I can't!" she snaps, suddenly irritated by his persistence. Why can't he just leave her alone? Why can't he see that if she lets him in, she'll break? Her breathing is quick and fast, and she blinks several times, warding off the hot tears which threaten to brim in her eyes, trying to control the slight quiver of her lip. She's already so close to crying. She knows that she won't be able to fight him off much longer and it ignites a deep fear in the pit of her stomach, a panic that screams at her to get away while she still has the strength.

He lets his hand fall to his side reluctantly, but continues to stare at her with probing eyes, giving her a look of defiance. He indicates toward her bag. "Where are you going?"

She falters, hitching the bag a little higher, suddenly self-conscious. "It's none of your business" she hisses, projecting as much of her own self-hatred into the sentence as she can. She needs him to _leave. _

Her heart falls slightly as she watches a brief look of hurt pass across his face. "How can you say that, Ron? After last night…" his voice tails off as the words catch in his throat. "I mean, it's made me realise - I love you and - and I thought…"

"Don't" she whispers, shaking her head. "Just stop" she pleads.

"No!" he snaps back at her, annoyance flaring up inside. "Stop being so bloody difficult! I'm telling you that I _love _you Ronnie! For God's sake, why do you have to be so - so cold?" he struggles to find the right words, wanting just for a moment to hurt her enough to make her retaliate. He can't stand it when she behaves so robotically, completely shut off from her emotions and from him. But he can see she's close to the edge. It won't take much for her to finally crack, to actually let him in. Usually, he doesn't ever push her. If he does, she bolts. It's just how she is, he's used to it and he usually leaves her be. But not now. Not anymore. "After everything we've been through, you and me, in these past few months - I thought things had changed! Bradley - Bradley _died_, Ronnie" he falters suddenly, tears springing to his eyes. "He's dead, my nephew and there is nothing I can do to get him back. I can't tell him how much I loved him, how much good he brought to my life. Max has lost his son, Stacey's lost her fiancé!" his tone raises in volume with every word he speaks. "They've lost someone they really love, and they can't even get him back! I thought things were different between us, I thought you'd changed…we have a real chance, we're lucky enough to still be here, to still have each other - why won't you take it? Why are you being so stubborn, why are you acting like this?" he curls his hands into fists, almost shaking with anger, the tears in his eyes almost threatening to spill over.

Her bottom lip quivers, and she stares at him with round, fearful eyes which are now glazed with unshed tears. Her heart rate increases at the sight of him so filled with passion, and a love for her which runs deep within him, and she almost collapses into his arms right there and then. She wants so badly to just agree with him, to tell him everything. She meets his angry gaze, searching out the concern which is hidden under his fury. All she wants is him. She wants him to hold her and tell her it'll be alright.

But it can't be.

That's the problem. He doesn't understand. And if he did…if she told him, he'd be disgusted. He wouldn't want her then. He'd blame her. Or worse - he'd pity her. He'd feel sorry for her. She feels a particularly unpleasant jolt at the thought. She would rather he remained clueless and despised her, than learned the truth and pitied her.

As if sensing her hesitation, Jack steps forward marginally, his eyes softening. He shoots her a pleading, desperate look. "Please, Ron" he begs. "Let me in"

Ronnie draws in a deep breath, staring at him with his wide eyes, shaken by his overwhelming concern and love. It disconcerts her, having someone who so clearly cares about her. She's never experienced anything like it before. No-one cares about her feelings above everything else. No-one except…Jack.

He reaches out, touching her arm, looking into her eyes and waiting. Just waiting, because he knows there is nothing more he can do now. He has said his peace, now all he can hope is that she hears him. That she hears him and his words are actually absorbed.

There is a moment of quivering silence.

Then, Ronnie finally feels her hard front shatter into a thousand fragmented pieces. Under the pressure of her father's death, all of the secrets which he left behind and forced her to be the bearer of, at the thought of Roxy's disgust, the guilt of Bradley's death, and then finally the strength of Jack's love…she crumbles. A clumsy guttural sob breaks forth from her mouth, and she reaches out her hands toward him, clutching onto the front of his shirt as she breaks down. Instantly, relief shoots through him, the emotion so powerful it threatens to make him light-headed. He pulls her toward him, encircling her in his strong arms.

She feels her entire body shaking under the weight of the great pain she carries with her, the faint sobs wracking her body as she cries into his shoulder. "I'm…sorry…" she chokes through her sobs as he rubs her back, his own eyes still brimming.

He shushes her immediately. "Don't be" he tells her, trying his best to soothe her hysterics. "Just promise me that you won't shut me out. Let me in, Ronnie, please" he begs, still holding her close. She lets out a particularly harrowing sob. "Promise?" he presses, his voice growing desperate. She nods wordlessly into his shirt.

"Right c'mon" he murmurs, suddenly looking around him. It's still far too early for people to be up and about and the square is virtually deserted, but it won't be for long. Soon the place will be bustling with stall-holders and people beginning their daily business, and the last thing he wants is for her to have to face them all, especially when she's like this. The severity of her heart-break startles him, even frightens him, and he finds himself wondering what on earth has sparked it, but he tries to push the thoughts aside in his effort to get her somewhere alone, and safe. "You're coming back to mine" he rubs small circles in the bottom of her back, half-expecting an argument, and half-surprised when none emerges. He shoots another glance toward the bag on her back, before beginning to lead her across the square, supporting her small frame as they make their way together toward his flat.

"Here" Jack's voice cuts through the haze surrounding her, and she blinks up at him from the sofa, startled from her thoughts. She swallows, reaching out instinctively for the cup of tea in his hands.

"Thanks" she murmurs, running her free-hand over her face. She was a mess. A wreck, a shadow of the woman she used to be. She grips tightly onto the mug, staring down into the liquid, her mind far away.

Jack sits down hesitantly next to Ronnie, eyes raking over her worriedly. Her eyes are vacant, and glazed, and he knows in that minute that she's not really there with him in the room at all. She's somewhere far away, somewhere where he can't reach her. It has been over twenty minutes since he had first managed to get her in the flat and settled on the sofa. Her sobs had quietened quickly, and now the only evidence of her tears were the red rings which looped her eyes and the odd hiccup every minute or so. But the ferocity of her trauma had frightened him. Why did she have a bag of her clothes with her? What could have happened that had gotten her in such a state? He reaches out, tangling the bottom of her hair in his fingers, twisting his lips with concern. He just wants to understand. "What happened, Ron?" he asks quietly.

She blinks a couple of times, her face set in that sad, blank look, before turning her head toward him, gulping as she met his gaze. She almost winces as she locks eyes with him, feeling utterly exposed. She shakes her head marginally. "She didn't believe me" her whispered voice seems to echo in the silence.

Jack's brow furrows with confusion. "Roxy?" he ventures.

She nods numbly, her eyes still far away. She looks away from him as if deep in thought. "I told her, I told her" she mumbles, eyes narrowing in disbelief as she runs through the events in her head once more. "She said I was lying" she spat the last word, her stomach churning. She leans forward, setting the untouched cup of tea on the table with a small sharp bang. Leaning her elbows on her knees, she bends her head forward and rakes her hands through her hair. "How could she, I mean, I thought…" the words catch in the lump at the back of her throat.

Jack reaches out tentatively, touching her shoulder softly. "Ron, you thought what?"

The feel of his hand on her seems to spark her back to reality, and her head shoots upward suddenly, as if she's became aware of his presence for the first time. Her eyes widen with fear at the implications which would follow if she went through with completing her sentence. She shakes her head quickly, looking away from him. "Nothing I…she said I'd killed him" she immediately goes for the easiest option.

There is a brief pause as Jack digests the latest information. He swallows "Your dad?" he waits until Ronnie nods, the next words slipping off of his tongue accidentally, never meant to be anything more than a stray thought. "Did you?"

She freezes, and then whips around to face him. "What?" she asks, horror-struck. She stands up, fury searing through her veins. How can he ask that? Why doesn't anyone believe her, why are they all so quick to assume she's bad, that she would be capable of _murder?_

Jack realises his mistake a second too late. "Ronnie I - I didn't mean -"

"Well what did you mean?" she shouts suddenly. "You think I'm capable of murder? If you think that then why am I even here? You want me to let you in, but then look what happens when I do! You don't trust me, so what's the point?" she shrieks, taking a step back from him. She was opening up to him, about to tell him something so life-altering and he still thought she might be capable of murder. If he believed that, then how could he possibly believe the truth about Archie, about what he had done to her?

"Ronnie" he gasps desperately, shaking his head.

"No. No!" she shakes her head furiously. "I'm leaving" she states, making straight for her bag.

"No" he matches her earlier statement, panic evident in his voice. He beats her to the bag in three long strides, blocking her path.

She looks up at him with fire in her eyes, sighing irritably. It seemed like they had been here so many times in the last few hours.

"Don't leave, Ron, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I knew you didn't do it, I…it's just so hard to believe that Bradley…" he allows his voice to trail off. He catches hold of her arm as the fire in her eyes seems to lessen at the mention of his nephew, and leads her gently back to the sofa, sitting down beside her. "Please, I'm sorry" he pleads.

She gulps, looking furiously down at the carpet. "What's the point?" she mutters bitterly.

He sighs. "The point is…I love you. I want to help you - just tell me what's wrong. You promised, Ron, you promised you wouldn't shut me out" he begins a desperate attempt to get her to open up.

Now it's her turn to sigh, a weary, broken sigh. She reaches up and runs a hand over her cheeks which are still sticky with tears, feeling oddly disconnected with reality for a moment or two. She looks down, feeling a pressure on her fingers, and is surprised to see he has taken her hand in his own. "I'm so tired, Jack" she whispers. She was tired. She was tired of trying, tired of keeping the secret.

He squeezes her fingers, not speaking. She closes her eyes before taking a deep breath. "It's too hard" she mutters, feeling her eyes prick with tears. He puts his arm round her shoulders, pulling her into his chest, and leaning his chin on the top of her head.

"I'm here, Ronnie. And I'm listening. I'm here if you need me. That's all you need to know" he relents, sensing her growing discomfort and dilemma.

She let herself relax, allowing him to simply hold her. She slips her arms around his waist, hugging him tighter. "Thank-you" she murmurs into his chest, as he pulls them both back further onto the sofa, so they're leaning back. "Thank-you" she repeats, feeling a small sense of contentment at just being held by him. Lying there, in his strong warm embrace, made everything seem a little bit better. When he held her, Archie and what he had done, all the hurt, Roxy, everything…it seems to fade into the background slightly.

He held her close, savouring the feel of her in his arms, in awe that she was actually letting him in, even if she was still unwilling to speak. To hold her, to comfort her just by being there was enough "I love you" he murmurs quietly, half-afraid of her response.

She closes her eyes. "I love you too" she whispers.

**I apologise for the length, I got carried away lol. Thanks for all your reviews. The chapter after this will be the last one, a sort of epilogue, if you will ;)**

**xx**


	8. Chapter 8

**OK, this is no longer the last chapter lol. Tbh I'm not happy with this at ALL. I actually hate this chapter with a passion. Any constructive criticism will be welcomed. **

She grips onto his hand tightly, focusing only on the warmth of his skin on her own. She hovers beside him and is reassured by the way he seems to be holding her hand just as tightly. He stands, shoulder-to-shoulder beside his brother, helping keep up a united front, giving Max his full support…but he doesn't forget her. There has been a small part of her that was worried he would leave her alone to deal with people, but he hasn't. Perhaps it's due the news she's just given him, or maybe it's because she brings him as much solace as he does her.

There is a quiet hushed murmur of voices which runs through the room, a depressive buzz of meaningless conversation. She knows that half of them are just here for the gossip. Yes, they're all here to pay their respects to the late Bradley Branning - much beloved son, grandson, fiancé…murderer.

It's the thought on each person's mind, and she knows it.

She watches Jack carefully, and feels a swell of pride deep in her gut as she watches him support Max. She runs her eyes over his face, but he is careful not to make eye contact. At this, she feels an unpleasant squeeze of dread. She can't tell what's going on inside his head, what he must be thinking. She looks away, swallowing, cursing herself for springing it on him on a day like this. This day of all days.

These last few weeks had passed by in a limbo, a blur of days at the club on her own, and then nights spent with Jack. He had been focused on helping with the funeral, wrapped up in his grief. It had become an unspoken agreement that she was staying with him now. She was unsure as to how it had actually happened, but she didn't have anywhere else to go, so she stayed where she was. He didn't mind. At least he hadn't seemed to. But what would happen now?

She cast her mind back to that night of Bradley's death. It seemed like so long ago now. It was all a haze in her memory, caused by the emotional turmoil she had experienced and then the fact that she had been drunk had not helped the matter. But he had helped her through these last few weeks. These last few months, ever since what happened at Christmas, he had been there…but she had been so afraid to let him in. She still was. She knew he was hurt that she changed the subject every time he tried to broach the issue of Roxy. In the last four weeks, Ronnie had seen her sister only twice, and she had been a damn good job of avoiding her considering they lived within such close quarters. Even when they had bumped into each other, once at the minute mart and then once in the market, it had only been a lingering few seconds of awkwardness. She always hurried away, too ashamed, afraid, and angered to speak with her sister. But now, after weeks and weeks of not speaking, they were in the same room. No matter how tightly Ronnie squeezed Jack's hand, nothing could distract her from the hot glare of Roxy on the back of her head.

Ronnie had wondered for a moment why the hell she was here - she had experienced a lingering moment of hope, thinking her sister had changed her mind - but it had soon become apparent this was not the case.

Ronnie was here to support Jack - because she knew what had happened with Stacey. She knew why Bradley had killed her father. She didn't even blame him. She even felt a rush of gratitude, feelings of sympathy toward the poor boy who now lay dead in the ground. He had been protecting Stacey.

But Roxy and the other Mitchells didn't know this, and she had found it beyond odd that they would turn up to the funeral of the man they believed had killed one of their own. Archie Mitchell - who they all seemed to still hold on some kind of pedestal., despite the wrongs he had committed. It was as if death had erased all their bad memories of him, had excused his behaviour. Ronnie wishes she was able to do the same. She wishes it was that easy to forget.

Her quiet reverie is broken as Jack turns to her. She looks up toward him, feeling a slight shiver as his gaze locked with hers. There was a fire raging in the depths of his eyes, his grief apparent to the outside world.

"Ron, you feeling OK?" his eyes are probing for a second, searching her face. After she nods he continues, "Can you go get a drink for Max? I don't want to leave him…"he murmurs in a low tone, shooting a worried glance toward his brother. His voice is gentle as he speaks, and his face softens as he looks toward her.

She nods quickly, looping a piece of her hair behind her ears as she does so. "Yeah, sure" she flashes him a quick nervous smile.

For a moment he holds her back, mouth opening as if in preparation to say anything but after a few wordless seconds he simply shakes his head, conscious of the prying eyes and ears which surround them. He touches her arm lovingly, looking her directly in the eye. "We'll talk later" he assures her, his hand tracing the path from her collar bone to her waist as she gives his hand once last quick squeeze before turning and making her way toward the kitchen.

The adoration in his eyes and touch helps dissolve some of the fear, and for one glorious moment she can forget, forget their situation, forget the predicament that they're now in. But then she moves away, and as her body loses contact with his, her soul is flooded once more by icy darkness. She can feel the stare of countless square residents bore into her as she moves across the room, paranoia setting in as their eyes tear through her like bullets.

She lets out a long low sigh of relief as she enters the quiet kitchen, revelling in the aloneness. She wanders over to the kettle, flicking the switch up before proceeding to pour herself a glass of water, gripping the cold hard edge of the sink as a sudden wave of nausea rolls over her. She closes her eyes, taking several short measured breaths, regaining control of herself.

"So - what's the deal?"

Ronnie's eyes snap open suddenly, and she spins around, stomach jumping into her throat, her mouth drying as she sets eyes on her younger sister. She blinks. "Roxy" she says stupidly.

Roxy purses her lips, leaning almost casually against the opposite worktop. Her face is unreadable as she takes in the appearance of her sister. "You look awful" she blurts out, her brow furrowing.

Ronnie narrows her eyes, letting out a light disbelieving laugh. She casts her eyes to the floor, shaking her head as she folds her arms self-consciously across her stomach. "Yeah, well, I feel a bit sick, that's all. I've been a bit stressed these last few weeks" she allows the words to linger, her rage manifesting itself under all her other feelings of betrayal and insecurity and embarrassment.

Roxy responds only with an icy silence. The kettle screeches slightly as it boils.

"What did you want, Roxy?" she asks.

Her sister seemingly hesitates before responding. "To see you. To find out what's happening with you, Jack - with us"

"Us?" Ronnie echoes, arching an eye-brow.

"Well, I haven't heard from you in weeks. Things have changed now you're staying with Jack, right?"

Ronnie pauses, considering her sister words. Things have changed. They really had. _Much more than she knows_, Ronnie thinks to herself. But she's not exactly sure how to respond. Is Roxy saying she believes her, that the situation is somehow…different? She tilts her head to the side. "Changed? Changed how?" she shakes her head.

Roxy musters in a deep breath, "Well, now you've had some time to think about it, and so have I… I - I'm ready for you to apologise. Then we can just forget this whole thing" Roxy tries to speak with authority, but her voice wavers with apprehension. There is also the most curious pleading note to her tone.

For a moment or two, Ronnie makes no movement. She simply stands, allowing Roxy's words to reverberate around the room as she absorbs them. Then, then she looks toward her sister very slowly, meeting her gaze. She shakes her head sadly, almost pityingly. She looks into her sister's eyes, which are hard with determination. But she can see past that hard front. She can see underneath to her sister's pain, her downright fear that Ronnie is speaking the truth. As they look into each other's eyes, each seeing into the other's soul, a quiet moment of understanding passes between them. Roxy knows the truth. She can see it. She just chooses not to believe. Because it's much easier to believe the lie.

"No, Roxy" Ronnie almost whispers. "I'm not going to apologise. I wish I could. I wish I could say sorry, sorry I was lying. I _wish _it was a lie. But it's not"

The kettle continues to screech away in the silent kitchen, growing louder and louder. Ronnie finds herself wishing for a moment for it to shut up.

Roxy looks away first, her breathing short and furious. But Ronnie doesn't miss the tears which have brimmed in her eyes, glassing them over. "Why are you doing this Ronnie?" she hisses, her voice growing louder. "Why are you tearing this family apart with your _lies?" _she spits.

Ronnie turns away exasperatedly, lifting a hand to her forehead. "It's not lies, Roxy" she insists.

"Oh what - so Jack knows then, eh? Yeah, tell me that Ron, have you informed _him_ of your dirty little secret?" her voice raises with each words.

"Shut up" Ronnie hisses through gritted teeth, mustering ever atom of her self-control.

Roxy sneers. "Didn't think so. Don't you think he has a right to know? If it's true then, like you insist, shouldn't they _all _know?" she continues to raise her voice, directing her poison toward her sister' back. The kettle screeches it's way to a boil.

The door to the kitchen creeps open, and Ronnie turns suddenly, her heart sinking.

"Tell me what?" Jack asks, as he stands in the doorway, his gaze flickering from sister to sister.

**Just felt like a good place to end a chapter, hence why this is no longer the last one. As I said - not happy with this, but any comments are much appreciated. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks so much for your reviews - they really brighten up my day and make me want to write more. **

At the sound of his voice, the breath whooshes from Ronnie's lungs. Her eyes are suddenly glued to the floor, her heart careening against her ribcage, her pulse almost impossibly wild. She tries fruitlessly to fight off the wave of nausea which presses down on her, as she wonders how much he has heard.

For a moment or two, all is still. Jack's perturbed gaze flickers between the two sisters, who both seemed to be rendered immobile. He tries to catch the eye of Ronnie, but is only greeted with the curtain of golden hair which falls across her face, hiding her expression from his view.

"Tell me what?" he repeats, his weary voice sparked with intrigue and just a hint of desperation. There was something indescribable lurking in the space between the two sisters. It had been clawing away at Ronnie for weeks, and he had seen it. She hadn't been 'right' for a long time…but it had gotten much worse after the night of Bradley's death. Something had changed. He saw it in the way her eyes would sometimes flash darkly whenever she thought he wasn't looking; the way one minute she would be smiling at him but as soon as she thought he had looked away, her face would fall; how she would creep out of bed every night when he was pretending to sleep and go and sit by herself. He didn't ever question her, but somehow, when she came back twenty minutes or so later, he knew that she'd been crying.

He had never followed her on those nights, or called her up on her actions - he had been too cowardly, too afraid to know if it was he who was making her unhappy. He was afraid that he had somehow cornered her into staying with him - that he had selfishly convinced her to stay, but that she didn't really want to be there at all.

But he had known that he wouldn't have been able to keep up his behaviour for much longer. Especially not now, when their entire life together seemed to hang in the balance. As he stared at the fragile looking blonde, his heart began to thud faster, and he felt that familiar sense of love crash down over him, and with it came the desire to protect her. He had to know what was wrong; now more than ever.

"Ronnie?" he presses gently, throwing a worried glance toward Roxy. Stepping forward into the kitchen, he closes the door behind him with a small click, drowning out the low hum of voices which float through from the living room.

Ronnie fidgets, her airway constricting, feeling an irrational sense of panic descend upon her. She musters in a deep breath, lifts her head up bravely, and pushes her hair back from her face. She meets his gaze reluctantly, forcing a stretched smile onto her lips. "It's nothing" she says quietly, the words sounding hollow to her own ears.

He holds her gaze levelly, without speaking a word.

She swallows, surprised at the intensity with which he glares at her, and she wilts underneath it, looking away once more.

He sighs irritably. "Ronnie…" he begins, his voice tailing away.

"Tell him, Ronnie" Roxy's voice is almost deathly quiet.

Ronnie feels every muscle in her body lock. The hairs rise on the back of her neck, her blood freezes in her veins, a shiver coils itself at the base of her spine. She spins toward her sister.

"Go on" Roxy's eyes are dark, venomous. She tilts her head, a small smirk playing on the corners of her lips, and suddenly, Ronnie is flooded by memories of Archie and the mind games he would play. Shaken, she curls her hands into fists, pushing the thoughts from her mind.

"Get lost, Roxy" she warns, trying to retain a grip on her icy façade, though her fingers tremble.

"What's the matter, Ron? You were talkative enough the other week - spilling all sorts! What's up now, eh?"

Ronnie bites the inside of her lip furiously, rooted to the spot. Panic encases her, swirling all around her, wrapping her up in a thick blanket of utter disarray, till she can't see or hear anything around her - only the terrified voices in her head which are screaming at her to get away; to run, run before it's too late. But she can't. There's nowhere and no-one to go to. Her time is up.

"Ronnie" Jack tries his again, his voice still thick with confusion. "Will you just tell me what's going on?"

She gulps, startled, and glances sideways at him. She reaches out, gripping tightly onto his arm. She shakes her head wordlessly. "I can't…" she gasps desperately, feeling a tight iron fist clamp round her heart.

Jack takes hold of the tops of her arms, holding her upright, the alarm in his face growing as her eyes dart desperately between him, her sister, and then the door. "Ron, calm down!" he instructs, bewildered. "Why are you… what is she talking about?" he garbles helplessly, feeling uneasy. Ronnie only shakes her head.

Roxy lets out a harsh half laugh, a sound which reverberates through the small kitchen, causing Ronnie to flinch. Jack narrows his eyes.

"Oh, get a grip, Ron" she spits, shaking her head. She folds her arms across her chest, trying her utmost to hide the way her fingers are suddenly shaking. "Don't go playing the victim"

Ronnie's eyes widen with disbelief. She steps forward, suddenly freeing herself from Jack's grasp. "What is _wrong _with you?" she asks in a whisper, shaking her head.

"_Me?" _Roxy almost screeches in return, causing Jack to take a small step forward and fix her with a frown. "How dare you, it ain't me whose sick in the head!" she snaps, the words whipping against Ronnie, stinging her.

She feels herself crumble a little, the hatred in Roxy's words almost immobilising her. Why is her sister so determined to hate her, so unwilling to believe that Archie was anything less than a saint? She says nothing, only fixing Roxy with a blank stare, but Jack seems to sense how deeply the words are affecting her. As Roxy takes a small step toward her sister, her eyes ablaze with rage, he takes his cue to step between them, sheltering Ronnie from Roxy's animosity.

"Enough!" he thunders quietly. "I don't have a clue what the hell has happened between the pair of you, but now is not the time to be getting it out in the open! It's Bradley's _funeral_ for god's sake" he snaps.

Roxy stops and blinks at him. He raises his eyebrows, his frustration at not knowing what this situation is about growing by the second. Ronnie makes no movement, only drops her eyes to the floor, concentrating on the sound of her own breathing.

Jack suddenly stands up a little straighter, fixing himself so that his back is to Ronnie. He glares at the shorter blonde, who is still staring at him with that stupid dumb look on her face. "I think you should leave" he starts coldly. "Now"

She stares at him for a moment or two, before her face contorts in an unattractive sneer. She snorts tauntingly, turning away. "You know, Jack, I almost feel sorry for you. Poor bloke. You don't have any idea about the kind of person you're living with" she shakes her head in disgust.

Jack's eyes flash with sudden anger. "What the hell do you -" he starts, but Roxy cuts across him, growing more animated with each word.

"I mean, I wonder how much you actually _know _about my sister, Jack. Only what she's told you, I bet" she throws a callous glance toward the golden, bowed head of Ronnie "Which, knowing her, won't have been a lot. Thing is, Jack" Roxy shakes her head "Ronnie's a liar. She's a filthy, rotten liar that needs to be taught a lesson and I -"

The rest of Roxy's words are lost. Her head is flung to the side as the palm of Ronnie's hand connects with her cheek, almost throwing her off balance. The short silence which follows is stunned, and positively electric with the different emotions which are flowing from the three individuals.

"Shut up!" it is Ronnie's voice rings out, shrill and desperate. "Just shut _up! _You don't have a clue, I'm not lying, I'm not!" she screeches.

Her sister brings her hand up to her now scarlet cheek, turning her ashen face to meet her sisters. "You bitch" she whispers. "You crazy bitch" she blinks, slowly rubbing her cheek.

"Get out" Ronnie spits, seeing red. "Get _out!" _she repeats more loudly as her order goes ignored.

"Ron" Jack pleads with her gently, the warm and gentle touch of his hand on her lower back going almost completely unnoticed. His head swirling with utter bewilderment, he tries to hold onto the knowledge that his own responsibility, for now, is to keep Ronnie safe; to protect her. He can always find out what it's about later on.

"How can you expect me to believe you about something like that, Ron?" Roxy asks, her eyes growing wide. "Eh? Especially when you're like this"

Ronnie takes a small step backward, shock rolling over in waves. "How do I expect you to believe…" she echoes in a murmur, and her eyes fill with tears. She suddenly feels so very far away. So alone. She wraps her arms round her torso, the fact that Jack is in the room with them is forgotten for a moment. "You're my sister! He - he was_ evil. _He was the one who was sick! Not me!" she chokes out desperately, uncertainly. How can this woman not see? She had always feared that Roxy would blame her. Tell her that she must have deserved it, voice all the fears which Ronnie had harboured in that dark corner of her heart for goodness knows how many years. But to deny it completely… To taunt her, to threaten her with telling everyone, telling _Jack, _that she was lying… it hurt more than words could describe.

Roxy peels back her hand from her face slowly, her lip curling with indignation. "Will you stop it! Stop saying that stuff! Just admit it - you wanted to hurt me, or I don't know - but he wouldn't have done that Ronnie! Not dad…not _that. _You've got it wrong"

Ronnie exhales slightly in disbelief. She closes her eyes, hiding the fact that they are beginning to burn with tears. "I can't…" her throat constricts, the words dying in her throat. Her legs begin to tremble, the room slowly spinning out of focus. It's just like hitting a brick wall, over and over.

Jack stares straight at the back of Ronnie's head, a sense of horror growing in him. Listening to their conversation, a sense of unease had been building and building, and now…as the truth finally dawns on him, he feels as if he has been thrown into a bucket of ice-cold water. _She didn't believe me…I tried to tell her… He's evil…you're just sick…I'm not lying…he wouldn't do that…do that…do _that… Ronnie's words over the past few weeks, the choice of words in Roxy's argument, ring in his ears, over and over and over again. Until finally, everything begins to slot into place. He has finally slotted in the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle, but instead of stepping back and admiring the picture he has constructed, he is only crestfallen at what it truly means. What he's missed. What he should have seen all along.

"Ronnie" he whispers.

Immediately, Ronnie stiffens. The sound of his voice…the way he speaks her name. He knows. She doesn't know how _she _knows it, but she does. Instead of feeling angry, or ashamed, or even panicked…she's only numb. It's over. Everything. He can't know. She can't let him see her. She's already faced Roxy's rejection - his will only be so much worse.

Not knowing how she conjures up the strength to do so, Ronnie makes a sudden, desperate dash to the door. She fumbles with the latch, wrenching open the infrequently used back entrance to the Branning household with slight difficulty. She doesn't look back at either of them, doesn't speak a word as she takes off sprinting. Getting as far away from the truth as possible, because confronting it just hurts too much. She hears him shout her name; but it doesn't make her slow down. She just continues, forcing her legs to move faster, the rain mingling with the tears which she has barely noticed she is crying.

She doesn't look back. Not once.

**Last chapter should hopefully be up soon. I had an absolutely awful time writing this chapter. I just seemed to lose my pizzazz for it. I really cannot be a good judge of this chapter at all - it was so important, but I feel I might have wrecked it :/ Sigh. **

**Next and final chapter should 'hopefully' (no promises) be up soon. **

**xx**

.


	10. Chapter 10

**Well…this is kind of long. Especially for a last chapter, but I didn't want to split it :/ So you're getting it in one. Massive thanks to everyone who has read or reviewed - means a lot ;) **

The sky is heavy and grey above her head, the rain soaking her to the skin as she jogs through the downpour. Her lungs cry out for mercy, so that finally she beings to slow her pace. She stumbles blindly along for several more minutes, not knowing how long she has ran for. Eventually she stops, leaning over and clutching desperately at the stitch in her side. Her breath comes out in short quick pants, and for a moment or two, she focuses only on the burn in her chest, the slight ache of her muscles. She squeezes her eyes shut, grateful for the distraction.

As her heart-rate falls back to it's normal speed, Ronnie stands upright and absorbs, for the first time since she had run from the Branning household, where she is. She frowns, feeling a light flutter of panic as she fails to recognise where she is straight away, but as her eyes skirt round her leafy surroundings, something seems to strike a chord of familiarity. She's been before, she comes here sometimes when she's out running, just for a change of scenery. It's not too far away from Walford, but far enough away that they won't come looking. She casts her eyes around the sodden grey park, misty with rain. Pushing her soaking fringe back from her eyes, Ronnie begins to limp toward a bench, no longer caring about the weather, or what she must look like. The droplets of rain bounce off of her skin, but she doesn't seem to notice.

She sinks onto the damp wooden slats, feeling dissociated with her body. Numb all over, she stares blankly into the middle distance, only blinking and looking away when the odd stray dog-walker passes by. The entire place is eerily quiet; almost too quiet. The grassy football pitches are deserted. The little shop is shuttered. The swings hang empty. There is almost no sound of the cars from the highway. Even the birds in the trees seem to be silent. It's the kind of day when most normal people are holed up in their homes, or have decided to go swimming, or to the cinema - rainy-day activities. Normal people activities. Normal, nice, happy families, who live their lives quietly. Without fuss, without commotion. The idea of having a normal, nice, happy life is alien to her.

She shivers suddenly, a factor which has nothing to do with the wind which buffets her. A nice, happy life…isn't that what she had been hoping for? Just that morning… She feels a couple more tears brim over, sliding silently down her cheeks, mingling with the wetness of the rain. She hadn't even been able to get a proper reaction out of Jack before they had been interrupted, and now, before it even had a chance to begin, everything was ruined. Ronnie drops a hand to her stomach, hunching over slightly. "I'm sorry" she whispers, speaking aloud to the tiny life growing inside her.

_She stared at the evidence so long her eyes became blurred. The steady drip of the tap filled her head, as Ronnie mentally back-pedalled, counting. This had to be wrong. It wasn't happening, it couldn't be possible. But the proof splayed out in front of her, undeniable. Two home pregnancy kits, each telling her the same thing - positive. _

_She was pregnant. _

_She was frozen where she stood, still in her pyjamas, as she listened to Jack stumble around the flat, cursing occasionally as she he searched for his tie. This was the morning of Bradley's funeral. She knew she had to move, to get herself into action, but she was rooted to the spot. _

_The cogs of her mind begin to whir, spinning slowly, trying to figure a way out of this situation. She drops a hand to her lower abdomen, lifting up her shirt and pressing her palm against the warm skin of her flat stomach. She couldn't be pregnant. She shakes her head, unable to wrap her head around the fact. She had been counting on that test being negative. She had been sure it was all in her mind, had convinced herself that she was imagining it - the sickness, the tiredness, the dizziness. The fact that she hadn't had her period yet that month. She put it all down to one thing; stress. Undue stress caused by the situation with Roxy. Nothing to do with being pregnant. Nothing to do with a _baby.

_Thinking the word causes a low whimper to escape Ronnie's throat, and she sinks down onto the edge of the bath, gripping it tightly. She closes her eyes. A baby. The one thing which she's always longed for. So why isn't she overcome with joy? _

_She pauses for a moment, the thought startling to her. Why isn't she happy? Isn't this what she's always wanted? _

_A small voice in her head answers yes, yes it is. But it doesn't take away from the waves of terror which are suddenly rolling over her. She hadn't banked on this. She's not ready for this. Their situation, everything that's happened, the weight of all the secrets which she's been keeping. Nothing about this is right. How did it even happen? The thought breaks through her confusing mush of emotions. They had been careful._

_She whizzes through the past few weeks in her mind, rewinding the events. There's only been Jack. But she's only been living with him for a few weeks… then she remembers. That day at the beginning of February. She swallows. _

_She is pregnant. Pregnant with a child. Her child. Her and Jack's. _

_Suddenly, she feels a coil of inexplicable joy wrap itself around her. A warmth flushes her entire being. And for one moment, just one moment, Ronnie allows herself to truly believe it. She has been pushing this moment off, bogged down with all the other fears and worries that would come with expecting this child. But now she allows herself to be wrapped up in the moment. She rubs her hand gently along her stomach. She squeezes her eyes shut, imagining. _

_She sees herself in a doctor's room, propped up on a bed, Jack's hand in her own as they see the sonogram picture of their baby dance across a screen. She smiles at him, and he smiles back, the pair of them and their little baby bump alone in a perfect world. _

_She sees herself, again in a hospital bed, beaming as she holds in her arms her little pink bundle of joy for the first time. Jack holds an arm round her shoulders, protective, proud and grinning. She feels the weight of her newborn in her arms, her heart thudding with irrevocable love, as she stares down at the beautiful child, perfectly happy in her little piece of forever. _

_She sees it all, mapped out before her like a sprawling city of events, all the landmarks clearly marked out. First words, first steps, first day of school. She sees it. An entire life - her, Jack, and their baby. And she wants it. She wants it more than she's ever wanted anything before, so badly that it causes her chest to ache. _

_When her eyes snap back open, she's surprised to find her cheeks are wet with tears. She wipes them away quickly, still smiling as she looks down at her flat stomach, being drawn reluctantly into the real world. She runs a finger thoughtfully across her tanned skin. "I want you" she whispers, almost inaudibly. _

_The words spoken aloud seem to have a peculiar effect, her entire body feeling like it's been jolted by a bolt of lightning. She lifts a hand to her heart, feeling the small fire that's burning there, a fire which will never be extinguished, that is already burning for the miniscule life inside her belly. _

"_Ronnie!" Jack's voice is brusque, and she jumps at the sudden thudding on the door. She inhales sharply, a hand flying to her throat. _

_Taking a reluctant, dazed step forward, she pulls the door open and then stares blankly at Jack as he turns the flat upside down. He turns back to her, his eyes hollow and somewhat haunted. "Why aren't you ready?" he snaps. "We're going to be late now" he continues to grumble, scattering cushions - causing Ronnie to wince at the clutter he's creating - as he looks for his missing tie. _

_She clears her throat, and then walks, calmly and without a word, toward the bedroom, reaching behind the door and retrieving the missing tie from it's handle. She turns toward him again, and holds it out. At the sight of it, Jack sags. He sinks onto the couch, and puts his head in his hands. "That's right" he whispers. "I put it there last night, so I wouldn't lose it" he shakes his head letting out a mirthless laugh. _

_Ronnie freezes, hand still clenching the tie. She feels shaken as she looks at the crumbling form of the man before her. This is not the Jack from her daydream. This is not the smiling, superficial figment of her imagination. This is the real Jack - a broken, disheartened Jack, but Jack all the same. She takes a shaky step forward, offering the tie to him. Slowly, he lifts his head and looks into her eyes. "Thanks" he murmurs, his voice suspiciously thick. He holds her icy blue gaze for a moment. _

_Then he stands up and turns away, leaving her standing on the same spot. He goes about his business, straightening up his collar, fixing his tie, fastening his belt. He smoothes his hair, and all the while Ronnie stands, immobile, her head reeling. _

_Eventually, sensing something is not quite right, he turns back to her. "Ron" he sounds irritated. "Max is going to be here any minute - hurry up!" he orders, before once more turning back to the mirror. _

_She doesn't even have the strength it requires to bristle at the tone he's using. Instead, she utters the words which will change everything. _

"_I'm pregnant" _

_They slip so suddenly and so unexpectedly even from her own mouth, she finds herself doubting if she's even spoken them. But then he spins around. "What?" he asks, his voice hollow. _

_She falters. "I'm…" she trails off, struggling. He strides forward, taking a gentle hold of her wrists. _

"_I heard what you said, Ronnie" he says, his face a blank picture of shock. "You're pregnant?" he asks, waiting until she nods. "How…?" his voice is strangled. _

_She looks away, biting back a sarcastic remark. "February" she whispers. She feels a sudden chill of fear at his reaction. She tries to cling to her feeling of joy, but finds it fading fast as the reality of the situation hits home. Why isn't he more happy? Doesn't he want her? What if he doesn't want their baby?_

_Seeing her suddenly so vulnerable and afraid, Jack reaches out and allows his fingertips to dance across her cheek. She's having his baby. _Their _baby. The words take a moment or two to finally sink in. Then - unexpectedly - he feels a sense of joy expand across his chest. He inhales sharply, a ghost of a smile fluttering at the corners of his mouth. "I -" he begins, stopping short as the doorbell rings. He looks away, still holding onto her. _

_Meeting her eyes again, he gives her a small smile. He cups her cheek in the palm of his hand. "We can talk about this later, OK?" he murmurs softly, pulling her close and pressing a kiss on the top of her head. "Everything is gong to be fine" _

The tears roll down her cheeks as she thinks of his words. Everything was not fine. Everything was, in fact, ruined. He had spent the rest of that day, after they had gone to the funeral, clutching onto her. His protectiveness had given her fresh hope. It was a sure sign, wasn't it, that he wanted this baby? She was uncertain. She still was, and now, even more so. Now she was sitting in the park, drenched to the skin. Roxy believed she was a liar. Jack knew about what Archie had done to her. She was pregnant. And she was alone.

She hunches over as the pain chafes away at the walls to her heart. Suddenly, she startles, feeling her phone vibrate against her leg. She pulls out the mobile phone in a daze, and stares down at the screen. _Jack calling. _She feels her mouth go dry. Her finger hovers over the keypad for a moment, before she unthinkingly presses the reject button. Rejecting the call, just like she rejected the memories and the pain, because pushing it aside was so much easier than having to confront the reality.

But some things just don't leave you alone without a fight. It's only seconds which pass before her phone is buzzing again, and then again after that. She rejects the calls time after time, till she eventually turns her phone off, snapping it shut.

As the rain lessens, she leans back on the bench, still uncaring that she is sodden and cold. Her wet hair straggles limply on her shoulders, and she reaches up with her hands, wiping away the tear-tracks made by her mascara. A hand wanders to her stomach, and she picks at the loose material.

As the tears ease off, she's confronted with her new reality in full force - what now?

Where does she go from here?

She bites her lip, all the while knowing that she doesn't have an answer.

"Excuse me?"

Ronnie's head shoots upward, startled. She sets her eyes on the form of an unfamiliar man. She'd been so wrapped up in her thoughts, she hadn't heard the sound of him approaching.

He looks at her, his brow furrowed. "Are you alright, miss?" he enquires.

Ronnie looks at him blankly in shock for a moment, before nodding her head. "I'm fine" she says robotically, feeling a slight flutter of panic that this stranger has approached her. Her eyes automatically skirt the park, but there is no-one else around. Just her, and this strange man. Her heart begins to thud a little faster. She allows her gaze to dart back to him, taking him in quickly. He just looks like an average jogger, and his eyes seem kind enough. But his presence has still unsettled her. "I'm fine" she repeats, and automatically stands up, running a hand over her sticky cheeks. She shoots him a wobbly smile, before she begins to walk briskly in the other direction, back toward the park entrance. She wraps her arms tightly around her waist, thinking of her baby.

She doesn't stop walking for several minutes, before finally finding the courage to glance back over her shoulder, and spotting the man way in the distance. She lets out the breath she's been holding, relief swelling inside her.

She exits the park and begins to walk through the streets, filled with dread at the thought of returning home.

* * *

The news pulsates through every nerve-ending in his body, leaving only a great roaring in his ears. He sits, eyes trained on the clock and hands cradling his mobile, in absolute silence as he prays for her to come back.

The shock at what he's learned sears through him. He thinks of the way she's acted in these past few weeks. His mind begins to rewind, denoting every instance that he can remember when she's acted strangely. Everything slowly clicks into place. Why her hatred for Archie ran so very deep; it wasn't just over the forced adoption, there was something much deeper and darker lurking there.

Armed with his new information, he even feels a slight selfish swell of relief - the way she's acted in the past few weeks, it's not down to him.

But then…he thinks of her. Of his Ronnie. He knows that she's hurting, out there somewhere, doing god knows what. He knows that she's pregnant, and that she's alone. He knows how much she will be hurting, because why else would she have gone to such lengths to hide this truth from him?

He thinks of her, and his heart breaks.

The mobile phone lays silent and sullen in his hand, stubbornly remaining blank. He's already lost count of how many times he's tried to call her. It's not even ringing any longer, but going straight to voicemail. He's used to her shutting him out, but it pains him more than he can imagine to know how she must be struggling.

He drops his head into his hands, rubbing his fingers through his short hair. He tries to cling onto the hope that she'll come back when she's ready. Going from her track record, it could be tomorrow or the day after, or he might not even see her for a week…but she would come back. She would come home to him, eventually. She _had _to. They were having a baby. A ghost of a smile graces his lips at the thought. Ronnie was having his child.

He is still wrapped up in his confusing thoughts when he hears the scrape of a key in the lock. Immediately, he jumps to his feet. His heart begins to beat erratically. Then, after what seems like an age, but could only have been mere seconds, she stumbles through the door.

Her watery gaze meets his, and she freezes like a rabbit caught in headlights, and he sees something flicker in her face uncertainly, almost as if she's considering bolting again. He takes her in, feeling the relief wash over him in waves. He doesn't even stop to think that she might not want him. All he can think of is how she must be hurting. All he can think of is how it was his job to protect her, and he had failed. He is consumed by his love for her.

In two quick strides, he is beside her. He doesn't even seem to notice that she is soaking wet. He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close. He raises his hand to the side of her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

She stares at him, wide-eyed. As he wraps his arms around her, his face so filled with sympathy, she almost pushes him away. She doesn't want this. She doesn't want him to feel that way about her - to pity her. She just wants Jack, the way he used to be. But now nothing will be the same again. Tears begin to well in her eyes, and she's just in the midst of peeling herself away as he leans forward and whispers in her ear.

"Don't ever leave me again" he murmurs the words, before his mouth crashes against hers, unable to stop himself. He captures her lips in a bruising kiss, holding her as tightly as he dares, almost afraid that she might disappear in a puff of smoke. He kisses her passionately, communicating his feelings in a way that words would never do justice.

It takes a moment or two for Ronnie to respond, but eventually she kisses him back, just as hungrily. She finds her hands winding their way around his neck, holding on as if for dear life. She closes her tear-filled eyes, clinging onto him, clinging onto this Jack. Her Jack. When he kisses her, he makes her forget. He doesn't see the stigma attached to what has happened to her; she feels a fool for believing that he ever would. He just sees her, for who she really is. He sees Ronnie.

It's only when she begins to see stars beneath her eyelids that he pulls back, allowing her to breathe again. He keeps his hands places securely around her waist, pushing back a lock of her damp hair from her face as she gets her breath back, her cheeks flushed and eyes glazed.

"What…" she begins, her voice strangled.

He grins. "I wanted to show much I love you" he pauses, his face growing sober. "And that you don't need to run from me, Ronnie. Not ever again"

Her mouth dries at his words. "I…" she struggles to find the right words, feeling so safe in his strong embrace. "I'm sorry" she finally settles on.

He raises his finger to her lips. "Don't" he closes his eyes, as if her words pain him. "Please, Ron, don't ever apologise"

She goes quiet, staring into his eyes. "Jack" she begins again, knowing that there are things she needs to say. "I don't know how…" her voice tails off again, and she curses herself for her uselessness.

"The baby?" he takes the easiest option first, his eyes brightening at the thought. "We're really having a baby?" he whispers.

She nods, a hint of a smile entering her eyes. He lets out a small laugh. "I can't believe we're having a baby"

She twists her lips into a tight smile. "But Jack -" she begins again, unable to dwell on the happiness. "There's still Roxy and -" she breaks off, a lump sticking in her throat.

Jack lets out a sigh and runs his hands up and down the length of her sides. "Ronnie - none of this is your fault" he shakes his head, his words soft and gentle. "Roxy - " they both stiffen at the mention of her name before he continues "Roxy's just… blinded. She's stupid and she's selfish. But don't listen to her. She doesn't know what she's talking about" he raises his hand to her cheek again, cradling her face in his palm. He musters in a deep breath. "Ronnie - we can't change what happened. I wish we could but we can't. But you can't let this rule our lives now" he strokes her cheek with his thumb. "Archie - he's dead, sweetheart. He's not coming back, not ever"

Ronnie leans into him, wondering how he possibly knows exactly the right thing to say. "I know" she mumbles into his shirt. "But he's still in my head" the column of her throat becomes lined with tears as she opens up to him.

He hugs her close, sliding his fingers through her hair, truly appreciating how lucky he is to have her. "I know, I know" he murmurs. "But I'm here…I can help, if you let me"

She pauses, before nodding wordlessly into his chest. "Promise?" she whispers.

"I promise" he murmurs back, stroking her hair.

And then, she lets out a small sob. The tears begin to slide down her cheeks, and she slowly comes apart at the seams. But she allows herself to, she finally allows herself to breakdown. She weeps for the childhood that was robbed from her, and the children that were stolen. She cries tears of happiness for the new little life which is growing inside her, a seed of hope in her confusing life. Yes, she lets herself fall apart, but the thing is - she can. Because, as she cries quietly into his chest, Jack's arms tighten around her, pulling her close, and shutting out the outside world.

She lets herself fall apart, because she knows that he'll be there to help her pick up the pieces.

**THE END**

**Well, there you have it. Thanks again to everyone who has reviewed! Thanks for sticking with the story till the end. **


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